


Seasons

by Manna



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-15
Updated: 2010-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:06:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manna/pseuds/Manna





	Seasons

Summer had been her favourite season. Halfway up the hill behind the farmhouse the land folded away into a hidden valley, a little copy of the larger valley in which the farm lay. With her brothers she went fishing, and built damns, and swam in the pool beneath the tiny waterfall. The four of them would lie on the rock to dry themselves, looking up at the high hill towering over them up into the sky, and talk about things now long forgotten. And afterwards they would go hunting in the edges of the endless plantations around the farm. Soolin was a good shot, better than her brothers were even though they were older. They took home little handfuls of bloodied fur and feathers, which their father would praise and their mother would cook.

Autumn had been her favourite season. Short and violent, it swept through the plantations, turning them into a patchwork of deep green and flaming reds and yellows. The farm didn't own its own flier, but Soolin would try to gets rides in any belonging to visitors, just to marvel at the colours. And her mother would come with her, 'just to keep an eye on her'; she loved the autumn display as much as her daughter did. They would sit in the back of the flier, making up names for the magical colours below them and then, when they were back at the farm and they were asked how it had been, they would say, "Oh, all right." It was their little secret.

Winter had been her favourite season. Lessons were at home in the winter months as the deep snow cut them off from the academy. However cold it was outside, the farmhouse was warm. In the clear night skies there would be the stars--more than Soolin knew a number for--and the huge, frost-ringed moon. The engines of starships landing at the distant spaceport left glowing trails across the night. Soolin's second oldest brother wanted to be a pilot, and, leaning out of their bedroom window, he could name any of the ships just from the colour and sound of their drive.

Spring had been her favourite season. On the plantations around them the sap rose in the trees. That was the smell of renewal and hope for her, forever afterwards. On their own farm the herd began to give birth and everyone pitched in--Soolin loved to help, even though it was hard work. And after the frantic rush of birthing she would take responsibility for raising the orphans in the vast, warm kitchen. Sitting by the fire with a lap full of new life it made her sad, sometimes, to think that by next year the little, suckling creature would be dead and vacuum-packed and lying in a cold, airless hold on its way to distant Earth. But not very sad, because Soolin, only seven, was a farmer's daughter and she understood death and responsibility.


End file.
